"What's the answer, Katerina?" said Pavel. "Figure it out soon, or I'll send my word to Viktor."
"If you'd stop bothering me, I might have a chance to think," I said.
He scowled and turned back towards the stage while I went on thinking. Except I wasn't thinking about the riddle. I'd figured it out around the time of Desula's transformation. What I was trying to determine was a way to save Voltaire without losing the contest.
With my eyes closed, I tested the well of magic in my head. A thimbleful had refilled, barely enough to create one solitary tendril of magic, but it would have to do.
I leaned over and whispered the answer to the first riddle into his ear. Pavel cracked a nervous smile and touched my left ear with his fingertips, which caused a bit of buzzing for a moment. Then he nodded and started pushing his way towards the front. Halfway to the stage, he gave me a stay-there glance.
My son was clever, but I was more clever. Or at least I hoped I was, or the both of us would pay the price.
A line of challengers were at the stage by the time Pavel got to the front. Each one ascended the stairs, only to fail the first riddle. They were turned into a jackrabbit, house cat, sheep, and a sleek looking dog with brown fur. None of them kept their humanoid features like the first challenger.
As Pavel climbed the stage, he glanced in my direction. My heart was torn about what would happen next. I wished I could accomplish my goals without affecting my son, but he'd made his choices and I'd made mine.
The goddess nodded in agreement after Pavel whispered in her ear. When she leaned down to explain the second riddle, I heard her voice in my left ear as if it were mine that she was whispering into. I didn't know how he'd accomplished this trick, but it showed me I knew so little about the magic I claimed to control.
The words of the riddle were: "Four hang, four sprang, two point the way, two to ward off dogs, one dangles after, always rather dirty. What am I?"
Pavel's gaze immediately went to me. I didn't know the answer, but the style of the riddle suggested certain forms. I knew I could figure it out given enough time. So I turned and pushed through the crowd, headed out of the cavern, while keeping an eye over my shoulder. As I struggled through the men and women, who were too busy watching the stage to be bothered moving out of my way, I caught my son's murderous glare.
He hadn't considered that I might sacrifice Voltaire to accomplish the task. Or at least that's what his face told me.
Pavel reached into his pocket and with a flourish, threw the paper bird into the air. The object flew through the air with great alacrity, making sudden angled turns like a hummingbird performing intricate maneuvers as it sped out of the cavern.
I had one shot at taking down the paper bird with my magic. I planted my feet, locked my gaze upon the rapidly moving object, and prepared to fire. My jet of sorcery flew at it. It was going to be a direct hit.
The paper bird darted to the side, and my shot went wide. I thought I had failed until a great gust of wind blew across the cavern and swatted the message bird out of the air.
Matka glared angrily down at Pavel.
"Cheating will not be tolerated," she said as the crowd hissed its displeasure.
"I wasn't cheating," he said, backing away.
"Then answer the riddle. Right now!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the cavern.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn't stay and watch what would happen to my son. I needed to get to Voltaire before Pavel could send another message. I believed he was being kept in the place with the hidden spring and the stalking creature. I could tell by the dusting of phosphorescent moss on Pavel's handkerchief.
My limbs were heavy with weakness as I ran through the empty tunnels. Once I found the right passage, I crept forward, listening for sounds of ambush. As I neared the cavern, I took care not to make unwanted noise.
Voltaire sat against the wall with his head between his knees and his fingers dug into his hair. Standing above him, Viktor leaned against a stalagmite, holding onto the stone with his misshapen hand, the other winged arm hanging by his side. He held his wing awkwardly, shifting constantly as the feathers poked him in the side.
Pavel's second stared at the shadows on the far side of the pool, where I'd heard the creature last time. I glanced back down the passage, expecting to see a second paper bird coming to warn Viktor. Just thinking about it made my heart double its beat.
I needed to get Voltaire out of there, but had no weapons. The jagged talon on Viktor's right arm looked like it could easily tear out Voltaire's throat before I could make it two steps.
I crept a few feet forward, being careful not to scuff my feet. If I went much further, the curve of the passage would no longer hide me.
Voltaire seemed to have his head turned to one side, right ear facing the shadowy side of the cavern.
I focused on my hearing. I didn't hear it at first, but as I calmed my heart, I heard the sound of low breathing above it. The creature had returned. It was why Viktor faced that direction, rather than the passage leading from the main areas.
Whatever it was, it was biding its time, waiting for Viktor's inattention. I couldn't wait. I needed the distraction sooner rather than later.
I found a few pebbles around my feet. When I stood up to throw them, I blacked out for a moment from the exhaustion. After blinking a few times, I threw a small rock over Viktor's head into the shadows where I thought the creature was lurking.
Viktor's head jerked as the pebble went through the air. He didn't track its motion, but it was clear he noticed it. I pressed myself against the passage wall as he glanced over his feathered shoulder.
The breathing had stopped. Either the creature was preparing to strike or had fled. It was going to be embarrassing if I found out it was the size of a polecat.
I launched a second rock over Viktor's head. This time, he turned right away, catching me before I could move against the wall.
"You sorry bitch," he said in Russian as his wings expanded.
Viktor took a step towards Voltaire, who had conveniently lifted his chin trying to hear what was going on, exposing his throat for a talon swipe.
The warning died on my lips as the shadows moved up and overtop Viktor as he raised his wing to strike. I didn't get a good look at the creature, as it had cloaked itself in darkness, but I saw the hungry eyes and knew that I had no desire to meet it.
Viktor's screech filled the cavern as he was dragged backwards. The delicate bones in his wings crackled as the darkness crumpled around him. I tried not to look, so the fear didn't seize up my legs, as I ran to grab Voltaire.
I yanked him up.
"Come with me, quickly," I said.
We ran down the passageway as Viktor's screams echoed behind us and then ended with a high-pitched gargle.
When we reached the main passageway, out of breath, we held each other up.
Voltaire whispered as if he were still afraid of the creature in the darkness. "I think I'm quite glad that I cannot see in this instance."
"And I shall not forget it. Ever," I said. "Hold my hand. We must get back to the contest."
The riddle rolled around in my head as we ran. Four hang, four sprang, two point the way, two to ward off dogs, one dangles after, always rather dirty. What am I?
The number four often suggested the legs on a creature, though Matka might know this and thus try to fool the listener. It might not be a creature at all, but the phrasing was split, attempting to misdirect. I decided it was a creature. For now. What would hang? Did that mean the creature flew? But most flying creatures had only two legs. The "two to ward off dogs" was clearly horns, unless I was way off my thinking. The "dangles after" was a tail. Was it a griffon or other such mythical creature? I would be at a disadvantage if it was, since my knowledge was incomplete. But then, "always dirty" suggested a farm...which made the answer clear. It was a cow.
Right as we stumbled into the cavern, Matka's voice boomed out, "If there are no other ch
allengers, then I shall end the contest."
"I accept your challenge!"
A thousand heads turned towards me. Though few had noticed me before, now they saw me, clothes torn and burnt, hair something akin to a bird's nest, expression haggard and gaunt. Murmuring filled in the silence, the whispers of judgment passing quickly.
On the stage, Pavel stood erect as if he were lashed to a post, but nothing physical held him. It seemed he was encased in magic, since his lips moved but no sound came out.
"I cannot accept your offer," said Matka as she motioned towards a figure on the other side of the stage. "You've had an unfair advantage. Goodbye and good riddance."
Chapter Twenty
The world condensed down to a point. The edge of my vision wavered like a mirage. Exhaustion tugged me earthward, and I wanted to do nothing but sleep. Something was happening to me. It wasn't just the hunger or the days with little sleep.
No. I shook off the goddess' spell. I would not give up.
In as loud of a voice as I could muster, I said, "Ask me new riddles." Voltaire squeezed my hand, but I continued, my voice cracking halfway. "Or are you afraid someone might actually win your contest?"
The goddess' smooth, broad face broke into a slow grin. It was the grin of a parent humoring a child's foolish request. Matka motioned for me to ascend to the stage. When I pulled away, Voltaire held me back.
"She has not promised you a challenge. She might wish to punish you instead," he said.
"I must go," I replied. "It's our best chance."
Reluctantly, our fingers released, and I kissed his cheek. A smile ghosted to his lips before fading to melancholy, made worse by his directionless stare.
The crowd's earlier enthusiasm was absent during my march towards the front. They treated me like a condemned woman, though at least no one threw anything. Did they know I was an outsider, or had Matka's disapproval tainted their opinion?
As I climbed onto the stage, I caught myself when I glanced at my son. His legs were thick with curly black fur and ended in hooves rather than feet. He was no longer fully human, a punishment for failing the riddle.
He tried to communicate something to me—his brow was knitted and his mouth twisted with words, but I couldn't understand what he was trying to convey.
The goddess stood with her hands on her wide hips, staring down at me with amused certainty. Doubt spread like ink dropped onto a woolen shawl. What was I thinking? The other three that Neva had brought to Moist Mother Earth's realm were either dead or transformed. How would I escape unscathed?
"Are you ready, thief?" asked the goddess with a smirk.
"Ask your riddle," I said.
"Riddles," Matka replied with heavy emphasis on the "s."
"Very well. Ask your riddles," I said.
Sensing the conflict between us, the crowd pressed forward, leaning against the stage.
Matka turned away, speaking to the crowd rather than me. "I have heard of a thing, growing in its nook, swelling and rising, pushing up its covering. Upon that boneless thing a cocky-minded young woman took a grip with her hands; with her apron, a lord's daughter covered the tumescent thing!"
The cavern erupted in laughter at the riddle, while I pondered its meaning.
"What is it?" asked the goddess.
I held my hand out, working through it in my mind. Riddles were meant to confuse, worded in ways to suggest one thing while meaning another. The first thing that came to mind was often wrong, and I knew that "a cock" would earn me an unpleasant transformation.
Usually there was a clue in the wording, a signpost that pointed in the right direction. Why a lord's daughter? Was that the clever turn of words that suggested the answer? I felt like I was close. Maybe the answer was "a cock."
"Your reply is requested," said Matka.
"A moment more," I said, trying to push the image of a man's cock from my mind so I could concentrate on the other parts of the riddle. Was it the swelling and rising? No, that was confusing as well. What was it?
"I demand your answer, or you forfeit the game," said Matka.
I closed my eyes, prepared to give my first answer. "A..."
No. I shook my head. An apron. That was the important part. Why an apron? The answer stiffened in my mind...well...
I turned towards Matka.
"Dough is the answer."
A flicker of disappointment passed across Matka's smooth face. The diadem on her forehead flashed into view for a moment and then disappeared.
"Here is the second riddle," said Matka. "Answer it and you may have your boon. There are two doors. One leads to home and the other leads to the lands of the dead. There are two guardians, one by each door. One guardian always tells the truth and the other guardian always lies. What one question can you ask a guardian to find out which door leads home?"
A sudden burst of fear coursed through me. It wasn't a riddle in the form I expected. Matka's gaze weighed heavy upon me. Even though she'd said nothing, I felt the press of time.
I knew it was an answer I could determine, but wished I could sit down with a quill and paper to write out the possible alternatives.
If I asked a guardian, "Which is the door home?" then the liar would tell me the wrong door, and the truth teller would always give the other. There seemed to be no question I could ask that would give the answer, yet I knew there had to be one. That was the game of riddles. Unless she'd asked an unsolvable question as punishment for sneaking into her inner sanctum.
"That's quite enough time," said Matka, "now give the answer."
If I called her bluff, that the riddle was unsolvable, would that earn the boon? No, I realized my mistake. There was an answer. Much as Djata designed his mechanicals to do work far exceeding the individual parts, I had to use both guardians to find the answer, while only asking one question.
"If I asked the other guardian which door leads home, what would he tell me?" I said.
The crowd hung on Matka's unreadable expression. Faces contorted with the effort of working out the logic.
"That is the correct answer," said the goddess, lips flat. "What is your boon?"
I glanced for a moment at my son locked in his prison, legs that of a goat. Then I looked back across the crowd, to see the blind Voltaire, face pointed in the wrong direction.
With a phrase, I could give Voltaire back his sight. But what of the world? Was it fair to make such a choice?
I faced Matka, staring up at her. "I want the True Caul."
When a smile broke across her face in victory, I knew I had erred. She laughed, head snapping backward, her whole body shaking.
"I do not have such a thing," said the goddess.
A stone formed in my gut. How could Neva be wrong? Had she sent us here to die as a joke? I wracked my brain, trying to figure out if I'd heard Neva incorrectly. Had she given a riddle, not a request?
When I looked up at Matka, lording over me triumphant, I realized what I'd been missing this whole time.
"Then I want your diadem," I said, pointing at her forehead.
Her eyes widened in alarm. "How can you see...?"
The words died on her tongue.
"I earned it," I said, holding out my hand.
Just like a riddle, words mattered. They'd mattered with Tobbin, and Orthoni. They'd mattered with the riddles, and they mattered with the boon. Matka didn't call it the True Caul. Those were Neva's words. Language needed to be precise, and I'd given Matka a way out. She could claim she'd never heard of it and not have to hand it over, but by pointing out the exact item that I wanted, she had no choice, or lose faith from her followers.
Matka pulled something from her forehead and a shimmering cloak appeared. It looked like the nimbus on the horizon at dawn, condensed into cloth form. She marched over to me. Those nearest the stage stared at us, bewildered.
The True Caul slipped into my hands, sending a surge of energy through me, dispelling the hunger and exhaustion. I felt reborn by its touch.
"Your words to my ear, Madam," I said.
"You'll do more than listen. You'll heed my words," said the goddess. "But I see your mind is made up, so I will bid you farewell. Leave my realm quickly before I decide to renege on my word."
"What about my son?" I asked.
"Once you're gone, I'll release him. He's received his punishment," she said.
With no further comment, I stalked through the crowd, grabbing Voltaire by the arm.
"What did she say?" he asked as I led him through the passages. "I couldn't hear anything. It was as if you two disappeared from the room."
"I'll explain on the way, but first let us get out of here," I said.
"Do you have the True Caul?" he asked tentatively.
"Yes."
We marched through the cavern and it seemed different on the way back. The side caverns weren't as grand, the ceilings not as tall. The further we went, the more mundane the passage seemed. Towards the front, I began to wonder if we were merely in a cave system.
The golden doors at the entrance to Moist Mother Earth's palace weren't the impossibly tall barriers that I'd seen when we first arrived. Rather than fifty or one hundred feet tall, they were only high enough to admit the goddess without ducking.
I wasn't sure if it were the True Caul in my grip helping me see the truth or if the goddess had released her glamour, but the way back into her realm looked like a simple hole leading into the ground. I would have asked Voltaire, but alas, he could see nothing.
His blank stare put an ache in my chest. I remembered the object I had in my hand. Without saying a word, I lifted the True Caul and used it like a handkerchief wiping the sleep from his eyes. A spark of electricity went through the caul and into Voltaire. He jerked and cried softly, like a child waking from a dream. When I pulled the True Caul away, the blank expression stayed on his face.
Nightfell Games (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 5) Page 16